


Visit to a Weird Planet

by kangeiko



Category: Lost, Transmetropolitan
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-27
Updated: 2006-07-27
Packaged: 2017-10-05 08:07:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kangeiko/pseuds/kangeiko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spider visits one of the last reservations left.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Visit to a Weird Planet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spuffyduds](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spuffyduds/gifts).



This is the last of the Reservations. The Smiler has shut down the others, using them as an impeachment shield. Not that it's going to do any good - after a while, the midget hookers start lining up to testify and no amount of coke-gum is going to shut them up. I can't fault the bastard's logic: give'em someone else's blood to keep them from baying for your own. So, one by one, his pig-farm bastards have been going into the Reservations and pulling the plug.

The Soho Reservation was the first to go - all those little slave girls, chained up in cheap motel beds for history and education and posterity, and your Duly Elected had the place razed with everyone still inside. Not that you heard about it. Not that you'd care if you did - plenty of other brothels around, right? Why cry over the deaths of dozens of girls who sold themselves into prostitution in memory of those who weren't given a choice.

He followed it up with the rest of the small fry, the ones that you didn't bother visiting because there wasn't free sex or drugs you could shoot up into your testicles with a straw because your veins are now the size of fat caterpillars crawling across your skin. The troops went in and set fire to the lot, burning down huts and houses and underwater cities from the inside out. They didn't have to kill the people - they could have just torched the tech; the mortality rate is so high that there's usually a ten-year renewal for the whole community - but it's brighter this way. Gets you all harder; gets you going for longer; gets you shooting off in the middle of the night watching the Nazi sex midgets work some policedog over in a back alley. So you have the lost little deviants living in the past crisped up in their beds like they were in a rotisserie, and pig-farms wanting to move in and harvest the lot. Enjoying your burger yet?

Compared to some of the other reservations, this place looks to be a paradise - sandy beaches, beautiful ocean, and gorgeous women wandering around in next to nothing. There's this guy here that I met on the beach. He almost fell over me, in fact, and he's rather pretty, too. You probably know him from a zero-G volleyball tournament, walking around in a G-string and holding up a scorecard. Or maybe he's a cop, or a hooker, or both, or maybe he's in transition between sexes and started out as a leggy girl running tea and vodka down to her advertising exec's office. The point is, I'll never know, because he's not any of those things any longer. In here, he's a beach god, walking out of the water completely naked and unashamed, more surprised than anything else to find me sitting by his clothes, typing.

"Who are you?" He asks, and by all rights he should be beating my head in with a crowbar, because he's seen Others before. Sometimes they are techs, going in to fix a glitch; sometimes, they are visitors to this Reservation before, like myself. They appear, abduct someone from their camp then disappear again, back into the City, while the tech tries to find a way to explain the loss. Meanwhile, there's a corpse cooling on a slab and nobody cares because these aren't legally people. You give up your rights to humanity.

This is the last of the Reservations, and the Smiler can't torch this place until I leave. See, I broke the rules when I went in and I took my tech with me, and he can't set about having this cute blonde over here shot and cooked and sold for scrap meat until I leave. Maybe he's hoping that the screams will distract you all from hauling his pasty ass in jail. Maybe he's hoping to stall long enough to have me knocked off and turn into some vegetable, shitting himself and puking vomit over my own shoes.

"I'm from the Dharma Initiative."

Maybe I'll stay here until just that happens.

*

fin


End file.
